The Harbinger II: The Return

Chapter 1

The Return of Nouriel

WHERE DO WE begin?" he asked.

How about at the beginning, she replied, "with the seal. You come into possession of a small clay seal with ancient inscriptions. You have no idea what it all means. You begin searching. In the midst of your search, you come across a mysterious man. You don’t know his name or where he comes from. You don’t know how he knows things he shouldn’t or couldn’t have known. You speak of him as ‘the prophet.’

He tells you the meaning of the seal. And so the mystery begins. How am I doing so far, Nouriel?

Perfectly. I don’t think you have any need of me.

He gives you a second seal in exchange for the first. You have to try to unlock its meaning until you see him again. Your encounters with the prophet happen by what appears to be coincidence or some supernatural agency. But one way or another, he’s always there at the exact time and place. And in each encounter the full significance of the seal is revealed. Each seal leads to another revelation, another puzzle piece in a still larger mystery. All together there are nine seals, nine mysteries, and nine revelations.

Keep going, he said.

The mystery centers on nine harbingers, nine warnings of coming judgment, calamity, and destruction, the signs that appeared in the last days of ancient Israel. But the mind-blowing thing is that those same nine harbingers have now reappeared in modern times . . . on American soil, some in New York City, some in Washington, DC, some involving objects, events, utterances, even American leaders, and with eerie precision and without anyone orchestrating them. And as in ancient times, they give warning . . . now to America.

She paused for a few moments, waiting to see if he would interject. But he was silent, so she continued.

At the end of all the encounters, mysteries, and revelations, the prophet reveals that you were born for a purpose now to be fulfilled. He charges you to spread the word, to reveal the mystery, to sound the alarm.

The call of the watchman, he replied.

And that’s where it left off, what you told me that night.

Yes.

And you did what the prophet charged you to do. You spread the word of it. You committed the revelation to writing . . . in the form of a narrative.

"The narrative was your idea, Ana . . . to change the names and details of what happened until it became a story through which the mystery would be revealed and the warning delivered."

And you had never written a book before.

No. I had no idea how to do it. But it was as if the book wrote itself. The words just flowed onto the pages.

Most books never get published, but yours did. I never heard how it all happened.

The week I finished the manuscript, I was scheduled to fly out to Dallas. The flight had a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina. While waiting for the connecting flight, I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and prayed for God to intervene, to send the message to the world.

And what happened?

I opened my eyes. There was a man sitting to my left. He wasn’t there when I closed my eyes. He turned to me and said, ‘So what’s the good word?’

A bit mystical for an opening line.

A bit mystical of an encounter, he replied.

So what did you talk about?

"It was small talk . . . at first. But then his tone changed. He stared intently into my eyes and spoke with a sense of intense urgency. ‘Nouriel,’ he said, ‘God has given you a message . . . and a book. It’s from Him.

And He’ll send it forth to the nation and to the world. And your life will be changed. And you’ll be known.’"

It sounds like your encounter with the prophet, she said. It’s what you wrote about in the book, at the beginning of the story. You’re sitting down in a public place with a man sitting to your left. He turns to you and starts a conversation. Then he speaks to you prophetically. And it leads you to bringing a prophetic word to the nation.

"Yes, except this happened after the book was written."

And he couldn’t have known?

No, said Nouriel. No one could have known. No one had read it yet.

So who was he?

A man of God, a believer, who just happened to have been scheduled to be on the same flight and who just happened to sit down next to me the moment I prayed that prayer.

But how could he have known what he knew? she asked.

How could the prophet have known what he knew?

Did he ever tell you why he gave you that word?

He told me that when he sat down next to me, the Lord told him to give me a message. He was reluctant but finally spoke.

And what happened next?

"Not long after that encounter, I received a communication from the president of a publishing house. He told me that the man at the airport had shared with him of the encounter and of the book I had just written. He had no idea what it was about, but he was interested.

And that’s how the book went out to America and the world—not by the hand of man, but by the hand of God.

So it was by a supernatural encounter that the revelation became a book and went forth to America. So how many people read it?

Many.

How many?

I’ve been told millions.

And everything changed for you, Nouriel, just as the man at the airport told you it would. Suddenly you’re known. You’re speaking across the nation. You’re being interviewed. You’re appearing on television and all over the web. You’re in Washington, DC, speaking to leaders in government. Pretty heady stuff. It could make one forget his humility.

No, he said. I know it’s not my doing. If anything it humbles me.

That’s good, she replied, because it doesn’t just happen. A man who doesn’t know how to write books writes a book about nine harbingers of judgment, and millions read it. It doesn’t just happen.

None of it just happens, he replied.

But it had to, she said. It was what the prophet told you would happen. It had to happen because the word had to go forth as it did in ancient times.

And then she was quiet, as was he. She reached over to grab a cup of coffee that was resting on the edge of her desk, brought it to her lips, and began sipping on it. But she didn’t take her eyes off of him. She was hoping to see some reaction, some trace of an expression that would convey more than she was getting. There was a cup of water on his side of the desk, but he wasn’t touching it. He was staring into the distance as if in deep thought. And then, finally, he spoke.

OK, Ana, why?

Why what?

Why did you ask me to come? In all the years since I first came here to tell you what happened, you’ve been reluctant to broach the subject.

I didn’t want to get in the way.

What do you mean?

The whole thing was so beyond anything I had ever heard of. It was like dealing with a sacred object. I felt I shouldn’t touch it. But I watched everything from a distance. I read your writings. I watched you on television. I searched for you on the web. I just felt I couldn’t approach it.

All the more, it begs the question ‘Why now?’

Because, she said, I had to know.

You had to know what?

You did what you were supposed to do. You completed the charge. The word went forth. . . . So what now?

What now?

The book revealed the signs and warnings of a nation in danger of judgment. It was the beginning. There has to be more. Where are we now?

"You want me to reveal what’s not in the book?"

Have there been other revelations?

Nothing other than what the prophet told me.

And you haven’t seen him since then? And there’ve been no more mysteries, no more revelations?

He didn’t answer that, but put his left hand below his chin and looked downward. His lack of response intensified Ana’s interest. She held back from saying anything, waiting instead for a response. But instead of answering her, he got up from his chair and walked over to the huge glass window, through which the light of the afternoon sun was streaming in, and just stood there, staring out at the skyline of the city.

So there’ve been no more revelations? she asked again.

I didn’t quite say that, he said without turning his gaze from the window.

Have you heard from him, Nouriel? Since you finished writing the book, have you heard from the prophet?

It was then that he resigned himself to the possibility that telling her might be part of the plan.

One might say that, he replied.

One might say that you’ve heard from him?

Yes.

How? she asked.

Finally, he turned to her.

He returned.

Chapter 2

The Girl in the Blue Coat

COME, NOURIEL," SHE said as she got up from her chair. She led him out of the office and down the hall. At the end of the hall was a door that opened into a large meeting room with a long table of dark brown wood in its center. Its outer wall consisted almost entirely of glass, and beyond it, a vast panorama of skyscrapers.

Please, she said, motioning him toward the seat at the head of the table, sit down. So he did. She took the seat to his right, with her back to the panorama.

It’s more secure in here, she said. It’s soundproof. May I get you something to drink?

Just water, he replied.

She pressed the button on the intercom at the head of the table.

A glass of water and a cup of coffee, please.

A minute later a woman appeared with a cup of coffee and a glass of water.

Thank you, said Ana. Hold off all calls . . . no interruptions.

For the remainder of the meeting? the woman asked.

For the remainder of the day or until I say otherwise. No interruptions.

Ana didn’t touch her coffee but just sat there and watched as Nouriel drank his water. When it looked as if he was done, she spoke.

So, Nouriel, how did it begin?

It began at a book signing.

I imagine you’ve done many.

"I have. This one was at the end of a speaking engagement. I was sitting in back of a long table. Most of the time when I do a signing, everyone waits in a line with their books. But this time was different. There was no line. It was chaotic. The table was surrounded by a thick crowd of people handing me their books in no particular order. I signed them and handed them back, hopefully to the right person.

I was about halfway through when a girl appeared in the midst of the crowd, directly in front of me on the other side of the table. She had to have been about six or seven years old. She had wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a light blue coat. There was something about her.

What?

"For one thing, there didn’t appear to be anyone accompanying her, no mother or father, just a little girl standing in a crowd of people on her own. And there was something about her that I couldn’t put into words.

As the others pressed in to get their books signed, she just stood there as if separate from the rest of the crowd. She never pushed for me to sign her book but stood there, looking at me, with a gentle smile.

I realized if I didn’t say anything, she would end up the last to get her book signed.

Would you like me to sign your book? I asked.

That would be good, she answered.

Stretching her hand across the table, she handed me her book. I opened it to the title page and lifted my pen to sign it.

Your name?

You don’t have to put down my name, she replied, just yours.

So I signed it.

Here you go, I said, handing it back to her.

At that, she gently took hold of my right hand, turned it so my palm was facing upward, and placed in it an object.

"And here you go," she said.

What was it?

A small circular object of reddish-golden-brown clay . . .

A seal.

Yes.

An ancient seal?

It appeared to be.

Like the seal the prophet gave you?

Yes, said Nouriel, just like the seals of the harbingers.

Maybe she read the book and made the seal to look like those in the story.

No. It was too exact; it was identical to the seals of the prophet . . . in every detail.

But how?

I don’t know how.

No one around the table realized what was going on. I imagine they figured the girl had given me a gift, a token of appreciation. And then she spoke.

Nouriel, she said, you’ve done what you were entrusted to do. You have delivered the message with which you were entrusted. The words were no longer those of a little girl.

What do you mean? I asked.

You’ve given warning. And now the time is coming to an end.

"And what does that mean?"

Your time of not seeing . . . and the first part of your mission.

Why are you saying this? I asked. Who told you to say it?

She didn’t answer.

Where did you get the seal? I asked. Who gave it to you?

A friend, she replied.

What friend?

She didn’t answer.

Prepare yourself, Nouriel.

Prepare myself for what?

For the time, she said, for the revelation.

What does that mean?

He’s coming.

Who’s coming?

He’s coming back.

Who’s coming back?

He’s coming back . . . but not as you expect.

I don’t expect anything.

Then all the more so he’ll come as you don’t expect. Prepare yourself, Nouriel . . . for the return. And this is how it begins.

"How what exactly begins?"

"How it all begins, she said, with the seal."

I looked down at the seal as if I would find something that would make sense of what was happening. I looked back up at the girl, and she was gone, or almost gone. I could just see the last trace of her blue coat disappearing into the crowd.

I got up from my chair, made my way around the table to the place from which she had disappeared, and then into the crowd to catch up with her. The book signing was thrown into confusion. When I emerged at the other side of the crowd, there was no sign of her. She was gone.

And there was no one with her?

No one.

And nobody who knew who she was?

I asked around, but no one had ever seen her before.

Who do you think she was?

I can only guess.

And how did she get the seal?

I had my guesses, but I couldn’t say for sure. But I knew it wasn’t that she just happened to show up there. She was sent. She was a messenger.

By whom?

That was the question.

So what did you do?

I went back to the table and finished the book signing. But my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened and what it might mean.

Then what?

That night, alone in my hotel room, I took out the seal to look at it. As with the seals that the prophet had given me, there was an image engraved on it.

Of what?

The figure of a man, ancient, bearded, and robed. He was turned to the right and holding, in his left hand, a ram’s horn, set to his mouth . . . as if he was sounding it, or about to.

The watchman, said Ana, the watchman sounding the alarm. It’s what the prophet told you when you last saw him; when he told you to spread the message, you were being given the charge of a watchman, to sound the alarm.

Yes.

And now you were given another seal and with the image of the watchman, which is where it all left off when you last saw the prophet—so it meant that you were about to receive another revelation. So the seal was a sign of a coming revelation . . . and that it was about to begin again . . . from where it left off.

It was.

And every seal you were given led to another encounter with the prophet. That’s what the little girl was alluding to . . . to prepare yourself for the return. The return was of the prophet.

Yes, he replied, the prophet would come . . . but in a way I would not expect.

Chapter 3

The Return of the Prophet

SO WHAT DID you do?"

The only thing I could think of was to go back to the place where I last saw him and when he first told me about the watchman.

Which place?

"The same place where he first appeared to me, where we first met, on the bench overlooking the Hudson River. So I returned there."

And?

"And all I found was a bench. I sat down and waited for about half an hour, but nothing happened. About a week later I went back, and again, nothing. After examining the seal, yet again, hoping to find some clue or revelation, and finding nothing, I went to bed.

That night I had a dream. I was walking through New York City toward the west side, to the Hudson River. It appeared to be late afternoon. It was a windy day, and the sky was filled with clouds. And in the distance ahead was the bench.

The same bench?

The same bench. I made my way over to it and sat down. I reached into my coat pocket and took out the seal to examine it.

The seal with the watchman.

Yes. And it was then that I noticed I wasn’t alone. Sitting to my left was a man.

Looks like a storm, he said as he gazed out into the water.

It was the prophet. He looked just as I had remembered him, dark hair, Middle Eastern features, and a closely cut beard and wearing the same coat he always wore when I had encountered him.

What do you have in your hand? he asked without turning his gaze to look at me.

A seal, I replied.

An ancient seal?

Yes.

May I see it? he said.

I handed it to him.

The watchman, he said as he examined it. What did the watchman do?

He stood on the city walls, in the watchtowers, looking into the distance for the first sign of danger, an enemy, an approaching army.

And if he saw in the distance the first sign of danger, what was he to do?

Blow the trumpet, the ram’s horn; sound the alarm.

So those in the city would know . . . so that those who had ears to hear the warning could be saved.

They were the same words he had used when he gave me the charge, the last time I saw him. They were the words that led me to write the book . . . to sound the alarm.

So, he said, still gazing into the water, has the watchman given the warning?

Has he? I asked. You tell me.

Has he sounded the alarm?

I believe he has.

And the people, have they heard the sound?

Many have. Many have not.

And have they taken warning?

Many have . . . but most have not.

Then they’re still asleep, he said, and in danger. Then the call of the watchman isn’t finished.

What does that mean? I asked.

It was only then that he turned to me.

It means that your calling isn’t finished, Nouriel. Your mission isn’t over. It means that there’s more, he said, more to be given, more to be received, and more to be made known.

You look exactly as I remember you.

I suppose that’s good, said the prophet, "though this is a dream.

Were you not told that I would come to you in a way that you didn’t expect?"

By the girl in the blue coat?

Yes.

I was.

And did you expect me to come to you in this way?

No . . . but did you really come?

What do you mean?

Am I dreaming of you, or are you coming to me in my dream?

Does it make a difference?

So which was it? asked Ana. Was it from your thoughts or from beyond your thoughts?

Time would tell.

Tell you which?

That there was no way I could have come up with what I was seeing. It was definitely beyond me.

Then from what?

In the Bible, revelations were sometimes given through dreams.

What about the prophet?

The revelations given in a dream or vision could sometimes come through the words of angels, messengers of God, even from God Himself. So it wasn’t so much that the person was dreaming of an angel speaking or of God speaking, but that God or a messenger of God was actually speaking through the dream.

So was the prophet speaking to you through the dream?

What the prophet said was that perhaps it didn’t matter if the prophet was speaking in the dream.

But he said that in the dream.

"I believe that that was the point. Whether a revelation comes through a prophet, a dream, or a prophet within a dream, it doesn’t matter. It’s not about the means through which it comes—it’s about the revelation.

And the revelation could not have possibly come from me."

So what happened next?

So you returned, I said, because . . .

Because it’s time, he said, and there’s more to be revealed.

More?

But first we must set the foundation. Why is it that a nation is given warning?

Because of the danger, I replied, of judgment.

And what nation is it that stands in danger of judgment?

A nation that wars against the will of God.

And what nation more specifically stands in such danger and is more accountable?

One that has especially known the will of God, the ways of God, and the blessings of God . . . but turned away and now wars against them.

And what ancient civilization was dedicated, from its inception, to the will of God?

Israel, I said, ancient Israel.

And what other civilization?

America.

And what else joins the two?

The pattern, I said. America was founded after the pattern of ancient Israel.

And what happened to ancient Israel?

It fell away. It turned against the ways of God.

And in the case of America?

It also fell away and, likewise, turned against the ways of God.

And what happened to ancient Israel?

Judgment happened, I said. It was destroyed.

And why does that matter now?

Because the fall of ancient Israel reveals the template and progression of a nation heading to judgment.

And what happened, specifically, in that template?

God called them, sent prophets and messengers to warn and plead with them to come back. But they wouldn’t return; they wouldn’t listen. They hardened their hearts to the point where the only way to reach them was through a shaking.

And how did that shaking come?

The nation’s hedge of protection was lifted up, and an enemy was allowed to strike the land . . . to wake them up that they might return.

And what about America?

America likewise hardened its heart to the voice of God, and likewise came the shaking; the hedge of the nation’s protection was lifted up.

When?

On September 11, 2001. The hedge was lifted, and America was struck by its enemies, a wake-up call, that the nation might return.

And did it?

No.

And according to the template, what happens next?

After the shaking, the nation is given a chance to turn back, a window of time, years of grace in which to return to God.

And what happened to ancient Israel in that window of time?

They never returned, and the window came to an end. The judgment fell. The nation was destroyed.

Now remember, Nouriel, he said, judgment is not the heart of God, not for a nation or a soul. Judgment is His necessity. But redemption is His heart. He wills that none should perish and longs to save, to grant mercy and forgiveness, to heal and restore. It is the necessity of good to bring evil to an end, that judgment must come—but it is the heart of good to bring salvation, to call back, to warn, and to even allow the shaking of nations that those who would hear His calling would come back and be saved.

So what now? I asked. America hasn’t turned back.

It’s not over, he said. There’s more to be revealed, more for you to be shown, and more that must be done.

More to be revealed of what?

Of that which was . . . of that which was not but now has been . . . and that which is yet to come.

"Of that which was. . . meaning, the first shaking . . . 9/11?"

Yes.

But didn’t you already show me that when you revealed the harbingers?

You were only shown a piece of the larger mystery. More than what was revealed to you was that which was unrevealed.

Why didn’t you reveal it then?

You couldn’t have been shown everything at once. And even if you could, it would have been too much for you to receive. And it wasn’t for that time to be revealed—but for now.

"And that which was not but now has been. . . meaning what has happened since then, since 9/11?"

Yes, and particularly that which has happened since we last saw each other . . . up to the present day.

So are there more manifestations, more signs, more harbingers?

You will have to see.

"And that which is yet to come. . . the future, of course."

The future, of course, he said, and the future of the course.

The course, can it be changed?

We shall see, he said. But for now, remember one thing, Nouriel.

What’s that?

Record it.

What?

When you wake up, remember to record what has been shown you.

So when you woke up, said Ana, you wrote it all down.

I recorded it. I kept the same recorder by my bed that I used in my conversations with the prophet in our first encounters. I’ve always kept it with me since that time, just in case.

When I see you again, he said, we will begin uncovering that which has not yet been revealed.

"What